Echoes, a victubia fanfic
by TheGreatColossus
Summary: The story of Jackson Luther, before he met Marthus. Rated M for language and gore.
1. Chapter 1

_Starting a new series here, going to focus more on Jackson. Hopefully it'll turn out well, likely not going to be as long as my other series. Enjoy!_

 **During the events of the Marthus Finale**

Jackson watched as Marthus dashed into the mass of maddened ruffians, blade flashing and flickering like a silver flame, spelling death with every strike. Jackson began to unsling the rifle from his back, the wood and metal in his hands feeling like an old friend.

"Stand aside, Marthus. You do _not_ want to get hit by this."

The next few seconds were a blur of smoke, the smell of spent powder, and the screams of injured men as the bullets cut through them. Jackson turned, and locked eyes with a crazed man, who lifted a rusty crossbow, and sent a bolt hurtling towards Jackson. The bolt was cold, and then burned like fire, going straight through him. Jackson let out a cry of agony, and fell to the ground.

Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. Jackson knew a little about medical terms, enough to know he was going into shock. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the face of Marthus leaning over him. A sense of overwhelming peace came over him. Marthus' hands glowed green with healing magic, but Jackson didn't need it. He reached up and pushed his friend's hand down.

"It's too late for that. Let me go, Marthus. Let me go. Please, stop this madness, but _let me go…_ "

Jackson fumbled in his pocket for the grenade. It might help. His lungs struggled to draw breath, so he lay back and gazed up at the night skies. The stars were so beautiful… So very beautiful.

==O==

The stars were shining. Jackson could see them through the window of the house, through the small, dirty window that was his second floor bedroom. He pushed the blue blanket on his bed back, and stood, walking over to the windows, eyes sticky with sleep. He looked down, across the garden, to where the forge in the back was lit. He could hear snoring from his mother and sister's room, so he quietly crept down the back stairs.

As he walked across the cool, dewy grass he looked ahead to the glowing forge. It was in the back of the small plot that the Luther family owned. If he squinted, he could make out the vague shape of a large man, his father, silhouetted against the glowing flames. The closer he got, the more he could hear the bell-like tones of metal on metal. He jogged the last few meters to the entrance of the forge. As he entered, he looked around. The regular barrel of scraps was holding the door open, while the rack of tools hung on the wall to the left of him. Directly ahead, the furnace glowed and his father stood at the anvil, with his back to Jackson.

"Dad!"

The heavyset, shirtless man turned, rivulets of sweat from the hard work and heat of the forge running over well-defined muscles. He towered over Jackson, but his face was nothing but kindness. His mother always said Jackson's smile came from his father. His eyes reflected the orange of the glowing forge behind him as he walked forward to scoop up his son. Jackson laughed as his father swung him around gently, before depositing him on his broad shoulders.

"Daddy, why are you working so late?"

"Your father has a project that is very important, coming straight from the people I told you about before. They're planning something very big, and they need Daddy's help."

Jackson looked up into his father's dark face, and laughed at the very serious expression his father had. "Will you come tuck me in?"

"I will in a moment, but I need to cool the metal first, or else it will break. Do you want to watch?" Jackson's father smiled, knowing his son's answer before Jackson even opened his mouth.

"Yes!" Jackson was practically bursting with excitement as his father pulled out the stool that he kept just for this occasion, and Jackson sat on it and watched as his father walked back to the anvil, carrying a pair of tongs to lift and douse the metal.

The man lifted the intricately beaten, cherry red piece of metal, and with the practiced hand of a professional, doused it cleanly, the cloud of steam that rose obscuring most of Jackson's view of the small room. His father placed it on a rack among other complicated-looking pieces of metal. As Jackson gradually dozed off to the sounds of his father cleaning up the forge, his last feeling was of his father's strong arms picking him up and carrying him into the realm of dreams.

 _Echoes. Echoes of dreams. Echoes of lives. Echoes of loves. Echoes of enemies. Echoes._

Jackson drifted back to consciousness. But there should have been no consciousness. He had died. He had felt the crossbow bolt. He had seen the stars wink out one by one. _Where am I?_ He opened his eyes. He was lying in a bed. It was made of some kind of dark wood. _No, wait, are those stars in the grain?_ He got up slowly, unsure of his legs. But they held him.

He walked unsteadily to the door of the room. The walls seemed to be made of some strange substance, not wood, stone or metal, but something else. There was an archway leading out into a corridor. He followed it. The corridor lead to a huge set of doors, made of the same wood as before. They swung open silently, and after a moment's hesitation, he stepped inside.

The room was huge, built as a great hall. The entire back wall had large openings that showed an amazing view of a night sky, but not any stars that Jackson recognized. The openings were shaped like the phases of the moon, as far as Jackson could tell. The main centerpiece of the room was a throne, directly ahead of him. A woman in a deep blue dress, decorated with stars, sat on it. Her dark hair was adorned with a silver crescent circlet. She looked up when he entered, and locked gazes before speaking.

 _ **I am the Midnight Queen, and I have a proposition for you.**_

 _What do you guys think? This series will likely be slightly different than my others, going more into backstory and memories than present, but I'm gonna likely be going more into the Barr Rebellion times, given that Jackson grew up during that time. Hope you enjoyed, more to come!_


	2. Chapter 2

_I got a lot of positive feedback on the launch of Echoes, so I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all. I've really enjoyed writing and being a part of this community, and all the support really helps! Enjoy Echoes, chapter 2!_

"What proposition? Where am I?" Jackson was standing in the throne room of a palace somewhere, while a woman calling herself the Midnight Queen was sitting on a throne in front of him. He wasn't dead, or at least he didn't think so… _So where am I?_

 _ **You are in my palace. I'm currently holding you here until you either wish to leave, or hear more about my proposition. Which will it be?**_

"I guess I'll hear it." Jackson scratched his head.

 _ **Your friend Marthus, his mind is shared by a god such as myself, correct? No need to answer, I can already find the information in your head. Now, I am proposing to bring you back, resurrect you, you could say, in exchange for you being my own instrument in the world of Victubia. You would be able to restart your life however you wished, as whatever you wished, with some help from me.**_

"Wait wait wait. You're a goddess?"

 _ **Yes, or were you not paying attention?**_

Jackson waved off that part, concentrating on the rest of the proposition, "Okay, so what's in it for you to bring me back? This seems like it has a hidden catch." Jackson was suddenly on guard. _This doesn't seem quite right..._

 _ **You will be my instrument in this world, a balance of power to your friend Marthus.**_ _**I shall give you time to think. Feel free to explore my realm, Nightfall is a beautiful place.**_

"Then I suppose I will." Jackson replied.

He turned, and the star-studded doors swung open, leaving him with an open corridor leading to another set of doors, presumably going outside. _Well, let's see how this goes._ He walked towards the doors, and stepped on a small circle decorated like a sigil of the moon. To his surprise, the sigil detached from the floor, and began to float forwards. It was unnerving, how this place seemed to predict every one of his movements. _So how do I even control this?_ Jackson experimented, leaning forward. The second he did so, the disc under his feet began floating forwards at a rapid pace. _I'm going to hit the doors!_ He leaned back, and the disc abruptly stopped, throwing Jackson off. _Incredible, this disc is more responsive than any other machine or magic I've seen..._

After a brief scramble to get back onto the disc, Jackson sailed up and out through the doors, and almost fell off again at the sight that greeted him. The blackness of space spread out in front of him, larger than any world he had ever seen. _It's so… beautiful._ Twinkling stars lightly dusted the black curtain that hung before him, distant spirals and swirls showing galaxies and dust clouds. Nebulas, galaxies, entire systems of stars and planets. It could all fit in the palm of his hand. He reached out, and realized that the disc was turning. As the disc slowly rotated, he gasped when he saw where he had come from. The closest thing it came to was a childhood memory of a picture book where a boy was sitting on the edge of a crescent moon, but here the boy was replaced by a huge castle. It twisted the brain to look at, because how could the moon be only a crescent?

 _ **Beautiful, isn't it? This realm is Nightfall, my kingdom. My castle rests on the edge of the moon, while any who live in this realm live inside it.**_ The Midnight Queen had snuck up on him, and noticed him shaking. _**Would you like to go back inside? It can be hard to process the first time.**_

"Y-yes, please." Jackson sat down on the disc and the Midnight Queen made a beckoning gesture, while the disc followed her back inside.

 _ **Now, you should rest, and think on my proposition. Be warned, however, I will require an answer by tomorrow.**_

Jackson walked back to his room. He collapsed into his bed, brain overwhelmed by his latest experience. His last thought before falling into unconsciousness was: _How is there a tomorrow if there is no sun?_

 _Echoes of danger. Echoes of plots. Echoes of voices. Echoes._

Jackson rubbed his eyes as he brushed his teeth in the small upstairs bathroom that his family shared. It had been a long day, but it had been a lot of fun playing with his friends. The only part that wasn't as much fun was school, but he hadn't had any bad classes. His ears perked up when he heard the sound of voices downstairs. _Is Dad having friends over?_ Jackson picked up the small glass that was always on the side of the sink, and stealthily crept down the stairs, placing the glass against the door leading to the kitchen.

"-understand we have a rebellion on our hands, Master Luther? We need to know who we can trust. You've been a supporter of the Minx Family ever since my ancestor Vincent, the pirate king, overthrew the Barrs. But now a lot of people are coming into question. Are you with me or against me, Frederic Luther?"

"Your Majesty, you know I will always be on your side. Even now, I'm developing new weapon prototypes for your loyal soldiers to use against the insurrectionists. Would you like to see a demonstration?"

"I suppose I have the time tonight, but not too much of it. My guards will wait at the road."

"Then follow me, if you please."

 _Your Majesty? Is Dad talking with the Queen?_ As soon as Jackson heard the retreating sound of footsteps, he cracked open the door just in time to see his father walking out into the night holding a lantern, with a cloaked figure beside him. As his father, Frederic, held the lantern up, Jackson could see that a lock of purple hair had escaped the figure's hood. _It_ is _the Queen!_ Jackson couldn't resist his curiosity, so he followed.

The air was cold, and Jackson regretted not grabbing his jacket as soon as he stepped outside, but he had to run quickly to catch up with the group. About halfway across, the wind picked up and Jackson could hear his father and the Queen's conversation.

"Do you know when you will need the weapons completed?" Jackson's father asked, turning his head, and illuminating his face by the light of the lantern. He was more serious than Jackson had ever seen him.

"No, but it will have to be soon. The rebels are bound to strike within the month." The Queen replied.

The rest of the short walk to the forge was spent in silence, with the pair still unaware of their third follower. Jackson was shivering, but he still wanted to see what this was all about. This was the most exciting thing that had happened in his 11 years of life so far. _I could meet the Queen!_

"Please, let me get the door for you, Your Majesty." His father opened the well-oiled door without a sound, and gestured for the Queen to step through.

"Call me Minx while we are here, I don't want to draw unwanted attention." She gave him a nod, and stepped inside the darkened forge. Jackson's father likely didn't see the movement the Queen made, but Jackson did. Her hand strayed under her cloak, sweeping it back and exposing the hilt of a sword.

Jackson's father stepped inside after the Queen, and left the door open, luckily for Jackson. He stepped inside on his tiptoes, careful not to disturb anything. He hid behind the table next to the door, and watched his father pick up a rifle that looked strange. Jackson had seen some of the Queen's soldiers carry rifles before, but those were always single-shot models. This one had a six shot cartridge, and a strange firing mechanism. Jackson noticed his father's mouth opening, and strained his ears to hear.

"This is the main prototype I have been working on. It's a six-shot repeating rifle, with an easy reloading method. I've also boosted the velocity and accuracy of the shots, but the bullets have to be custom made. Although that part is easy. It should prove quite deadly in your loyal soldiers' hands."

"May I see a demonstration? Excuse me if I seem skeptical, but this seems to be an entirely new class of weapon, and I would like to see it work before I purchase it." The Queen replied curtly.

"No problem, Your-" The Queen held up a hand, "Sorry, Minx, I can provide a demonstration behind the forge. I already have a firing range set up."

"Aren't you worried about your family or neighbors hearing?"

Frederic laughed, "There's no one around for five miles, and as for my family, they're all sound sleepers. None of them know you are here."

He motioned for the Queen to follow him, and the purple-haired monarch stepped out the back door. Jackson rushed over to the small back window to peek outside. His father walked over to a full-size mannequin, and set the lantern on a flat patch of grass next to it, to provide a lit target. He walked back to the Queen and raised the rifle to his shoulder.

"First, single shots."

Six individual cracks rang out across the fields, and the dummy had six holes, spread up and down the torso. His father quickly popped out the cartridge and actually _slid another cartridge in_. He quickly raised it back to his shoulder and continued his sentence.

"Now for rapid fire."

Six cracks rang out, almost indistinguishable from each other this time, and ripped the rest of the dummy to shreds. The man set the rifle down, butt first, and looked at the Queen expectantly.

"This will do nicely. And now, I will have to leave. Thank you for your time Frederic. I will be expecting the first shipment of twelve rifles by next Sunday? If that is within your timeframe?"

"That will be possible, Minx."

The Queen walked back into the forge and Jackson scrambled to get back to the house, but he turned around and Minx herself was standing behind him, purple hair settled around her shoulders, hood thrown back.

"You can sneak around quite well, and I can see you have your father's hands for craftsmanship."

"Wow. You're really pretty. My Dad says you're the best ruler we've had, ever. I bet you're really good with that sword, right?"

Minx chuckled, "Yes, I am, but you should get back to your room, before your father finds you here. It was nice to meet you Jackson, I think we will meet again someday. Take care, Jackson."

With that, she left her hood down, and walked down to the road. As his father said his goodbyes, Jackson could have sworn the Queen looked up at his window on the second story, and nodded.

 _Moaar flashbackksssss. Hope you enjoyed this one, I had fun writing Jackson as a kid and meeting Minx. This is a fun series so far, more to come!_


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm looking forward to continuing this series, since it has been a lot of fun to write so far, and it's been getting a lot of good feedback. I'm hoping to continue the flashback/real time format, since I think it's been popular. If you have any other feedback for me, please send it to me via or tumblr. Without further delay, please enjoy Echoes, chapter 3!_

 _Echoes of wind. Echoes of steam. Echoes of secrets. Echoes._

About a week and a half after Queen Minx had visited Jackson's dad, the boy got a day off when the school was closed for a day of administration and meetings. Most of this day was spent outside in the fields, playing with friends and his younger sister. At noon, most of the kids headed back to their homes for lunch with their families. After eating a sandwich, and being given a lunch pail to take to his father out in the forge, which now had a small shed attached to the back, Jackson stood in front of the door. He knocked, the hollow sound of the old wood making a dull _thud_.

"One moment, kid! I'll be over in a sec, come in!"

"I brought you lunch from Mom, ham sandwich, apple and a cookie. She baked 'em this morning!" With this, Jackson opened the door to the shed. There were strange contraptions on workbenches all around, hissing and steaming.

"Good boy. I'm starving, didn't get a chance to eat breakfast this morning, work sent me out early."

Jackson crept catlike around the space as his father ate, almost fearfully cautious of disturbing any of his dad's work. Strange things, with valves and pipes protruding out of them in all directions. The strangest of these looked like a small, mechanical heart, with pumps and gauges sticking out of it at all angles.

Jackson's father paused in his meal to warn his son away from the object of his fascination. "Please don't touch that! It's highly unstable, and if you touch it… Well, bad things would happen. Buuut, if you don't break anything at the moment, I might let you help me stabilize it…"

"OOOOH! Please Dad? I wanna help!"

Frederic laughed and stood, pulling his son close to him, before re-wrapping his lunch and picking up a wrench from next to him. "Alright, alright, let's get to work!"

Jackson's father tossed him a pair of gloves, and instructed him to hold the heart, which was what he thought of it as now, in various different ways as certain knobs were tightened and loosened. Everything was going just fine, until Jackson's father suddenly stopped in the middle of his task, now looking like he'd seen a ghost.

"Jackson, I need you to do exactly as I tell you. Hold the engine just like you're holding it now, and put it down in there." He gestured gently with the wrench towards a metal box on the floor a few feet away.

Jackson took two cautious steps forward, as if he was holding a bomb, which this likely was now. Slight _tics_ and _pops_ emanated from the engine as he walked. His hands were quaking, and his palms were sweating through his work gloves. Five steps away. Four steps. At three, his foot found a puddle of oil on the floor, and he fell, screaming in terror.

The engine seemed to fall in slow motion, hitting the edge of a table and unleashing a blast of steam that Jackson was sure would cook him alive. Somehow, the scalding gas diverted away from Jackson, bending and twisting as the engine fell closer. _That's not normal…_ He was so entranced by the steam that he barely moved his head out of the way in time, as it was almost crushed by the falling engine.

"Son! SON! Are you alright?" Jackson's father had his hand outstretched, and a look of extreme exertion in his face. Somehow, Jackson knew that his father had done _something_ , changed the steam's direction and saved his life.

"How did you…"

Frederic sighed. He knew it would come sooner or later, but why now? "Listen, I've never told anyone else this, but I'm a Wind Magi. My parents didn't like it, so they never sent me to the VMA. They banned me from using my powers, but once I moved out, I used 'em with steam."

"So you never told anyone else about this?" Jackson asked in wonderment.

"Not a soul. I would have been packed off to the VMA, and I would have had to leave you and your mother, who was about to have your sister. I couldn't have her grow up like that."

"I promise I won't tell anyone, dad. Really."

Instead of replying, Frederic pulled his son into a tight hug. They stayed like that for a long time. When they separated, both father and son gazed at the engine on the floor, still cooling and venting small bursts of steam. As one, they picked up wrenches and went to work.

==O==

 _ **I am ready. Come to the throne room with your decision.**_

Jackson rolled out of bed, and trotted the route now familiar to him, bursting with anticipation. _I'll give life another shot._ He opened the door confidently, ready to present his decision to the Midnight Queen. The Queen herself was sitting in her throne, smiling. _Oh, wait. She can read my thoughts. She already knows what my choice is._ He knelt in front of the throne, rising when the Queen gave him a nod.

 _ **I understand that you wish to return to life.**_

"Yes, Your Highness," Jackson's voice got louder as he continued, "My stay, and my dreams, in your castle over the last few days have shown me that there are still things to be done, and I'm the only one to do them. Being your avatar is a small price to pay." On the last words, he bowed his head, ready for whatever came next.

 _ **So be it. I am ready to bring you back.**_

Jackson hesitated for a second. _She's already prepared?!_ "Oh, uh, alright. What do I need to do?"

 _ **Place this over your wound. It is healed in this realm, but not in yours. After that, simply kneel in front of my throne. I will handle the rest.**_ The Midnight Queen handed him a silver crescent pendant, which he placed over where he remembered the wound. To his surprise, it stuck to his skin, cold as ice.

As he knelt before the throne, he felt a pain, a kind of phantom pain, where the crossbow bolt had entered his body. It grew to an intense burning, and Jackson almost cried out. But then there was a cold, refreshing feeling. He risked a glance, and saw a blackness spreading across his abdomen, darker than his skin, dark as night. As he watched a silvery crescent emblazoned itself onto his skin, right over his stomach.

The next part was even stranger. The world began to blur and fall away as he watched, changing from a moonlit palace to just a normal night in woods he did not recognize. A few feet away, a huge crystalline monument stood, and he could see a cavity inside where his body must have lay. At his feet were his brace of pistols, and the repeating rifle.

"Wow. She really did it," he breathed out loud.

 _ **I do not offer you powers like your friend, only the gift of resurrection and counsel when you need it. I leave your life to you.**_

With that, the presence departed, and Jackson was left standing in the woods, weapons in hand, with the moon shining overhead.

 _Well there we go. Jackson is ALIIIIIIIIVEEEEE! Love it? Hate it? Give me some feedback!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for the continuing support of this series! Keeps me writing, and keeps me motivated! At this point, there WILL be Steam Knights, because steampunk mechs are cool, and you guys seemed to enjoy the teaser. So I won't delay any further. Enjoy!_

Jackson stood for a moment, just drinking in the feeling of smelling familiar scents, feeling the texture of leaves and twigs under his boots, of being _alive_. _I can't sleep in the woods, I've got no water, no food and no shelter._ The mechanic rummaged in his pockets, feeling around for the familiar shape of his compass. It was right in his breast pocket, where he'd put it when he and Marthus departed to repel an attack on the Queens' lives by conspirators who also planned to kill the Mayor. Luckily, he had been buried with the same things he had there, including this trusty compass. The crystal monument he had seen earlier glittered in the moonlight, like a sparkling gem in the corner of his vision.

"Thanks for the monument, Marthus." He knew his friend couldn't hear him, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

The newly revived young man pulled a small, folded map out of the same pocket that had the compass, inspected it for a moment, and then set off through the woods, in some direction unknown but to him, and the forest creatures watching him.

==O==

Jackson walked for what felt like forever, until he reached a large road cutting through the woods.

"Right where the map said it would be…"

A few minutes passed, and then a coach came rumbling down the road. Jackson waved his arms frantically, but it didn't stop. After his initial efforts failed, he reached into his holsters, and fired two shots, one from each pistol, into the air. The coach rattled to a halt in front of him. He glanced through the window, and saw the coachman, quaking, in the covered seat, reins forgotten on the bench beside him.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you. I just needed to get your attention so I could go somewhere. Where are you headed?"

"T-the C-capital, sir. If you don't mind." The man had seemed to get a grip on himself, and pulled the reins back into his hands.

Jackson was surprised the horse hadn't bolted when he fired, but he climbed in, and the coachman was true to his word. They arrived in the Capital near ten o'clock at night, and Jackson found his way back to his shop, which looked the same as he'd left it.

"It's good to be home," he said aloud to the dusty shop, all the parts and pieces and tools right where he'd seen them last. He walked to the back very carefully, treading on certain boards, and not on others. When he reached the back wall, he tapped the lamp three times, turning it as he did so.

"And now…" _Click_. The wall slid to the side, revealing a room full of charts and papers, schematics and diagrams. Jackson walked over to one, displaying what looked like a huge armor suit powered by steam. The mechanic ran his fingers over the chart, tracing, remembering…

 _Echoes of strength. Echoes of steel. Echoes of power. Echoes._

They had finished the engine last week, and that was when Jackson's father had told him what it was for.

"This is something to help the Queen, and help this whole country. It's a kind of suit, made of steel and powered by that engine you helped me fix."

"This is for fighting that rebellion, right? I heard you and the Queen talking that one night."

Frederic smiled ruefully. "I felt like someone was watching, but I dismissed it." His tone turned serious, "Do not breathe a word about what we're doing here to _anyone_. Not even your sister or your mother. Now c'mon, don't you want to see what you've helped make?"

The two figures walked over to the shed, illuminated by the setting sun, which set a gentle golden-orange glow over the doorway, and inside the building through the open door. Frederic led his son inside, then instructed him to close his eyes. _What's going to happen? Has he finished an entire suit?_ A rumbling, and the hiss of steam.

"Alright, you can open your eyes." His father's voice sounded strange, like he was speaking through a metal cone.

Jackson opened his eyes, and faced a leviathan of steel and steam. It was huge, probably around ten feet tall. _How did he manage to hide_ this? A huge fist, as large as Jackson's head, flexed and contracted with a hiss of steam. It took two steps forward, and then Jackson found himself being lifted into the air by metal arms, hard but gentle. He was brought up to a small crack in the front of the suit. There was a quick hiss, and the visor shot upwards, revealing his father's smiling face within.

"So what do you think?" The strange edge was gone from his father's voice, presumably because the visor had been lifted.

"This is _awesome!_ I can't believe you built all of this!"

"Well, none of it would have been possible without _this_." The suit's free hand fumbled for a moment, before opening a hatch, displaying the experimental engine that father and son had been working on. "Want a full demonstration?"

"YesyesyesYES!" Jackson was practically bouncing with excitement as his father set him down. "Please?" he added.

"Now stand back please," the visor flipped down as he spoke, "This might be a liiiitle bit dangerous. Put on the goggles." Jackson obediently dashed over to a workbench and strapped on a pair of safety goggles.

The hulking suit pulled a foot thick piece of wood out from behind a table, and slotted it into a gutter in the ground. Frederic and the suit stood for a moment, and then, faster than Jackson's eye could follow, a clenched fist blasted forwards. The wood plank disintegrated into splinters under the force of the punch, and the shed as a whole quaked with the power of that discharge.

The tinny tone to his father's voice had returned as he spoke, "Now, for steam cover. This is good for a variety of things."

The suit shuddered for a moment, and then the shed was full of moist, white steam. Jackson couldn't see a thing. He stumbled around for a moment, and then was caught by the gentle arms of the steam-powered suit.

"I call it the Steam Knight. It'll help the Queen, and a lot of other people."

"How much is going to change, dad?"

"Everything, son. Everything. And it will all be because of you."

 _So whaddya think? Steam Knights will be a major thing in many of the other chapters! Hope you enjoyed!_


	5. Chapter 5

_First update in awhile! I've been working on a super-secret project... This chapter contains some Steam Knight combat! Woo! I hope you guys enjoy this one! (gore warning here)_

The next weeks found Jackson making enquiries at other mechanic shops and various suppliers of parts. He gave many of his acquaintances a start when they met him, as he had been posted missing in many of the major Victubian newspapers. After a brief period of confusion, his life returned to normal, or as normal as it could get when you've recently been resurrected from the dead by a deity of power equaling that of your friend.

"Will that be all, Master Luther?" The old clerk at the desk indicated a large burlap sack full of mechanical parts, all made specially to the mechanic's order.

"Yes, thank you very much." Jackson paid, shouldered the sack, and ventured out into the evening. He had been gathering parts all day, and his shoulders ached from all the strain placed on them.

The next day, the sun rose on the sounds of intense banging and hissing noises emanating from the back of the machine shop, and when noon rolled around, Jackson exited the building, hired a large trolley, and horses to pull it, and placed two very large crates on it, the wood protesting loudly of the weight. The whole strange caravan then set off for the Castle.

==O==

"Hello sir! I would like to see the Queen-"

The door slammed in the mechanic's face, and a small slit opened near the top, allowing whoever was on the other side of the door to speak to Jackson. "Her Majesty does not wish an audience with a common mechanic!"

"Tell her it's Jackson Luther, son of Frederic Luther!"

"She will have no audience with…. you…" The steward trailed off as the barrels of Jackson's revolvers poked through the hole at the top of the door.

"I'm sorry, but I _really_ need to see Her Majesty."

"R-right away, sir!"

Jackson entered the main hall, amid frequent pleas for forgiveness from the hapless steward, who immediately called the Queens down. The shining red eye of Queen Krism appeared first, and then the familiar face of Minx.

"I _did_ have a feeling we would meet again. And thankfully not against the backdrop of another rebellion!" Queen Minx laughed, and descended the stairs. Jackson knelt, until Minx indicated he should stand. "Your friend Marthus had come here once, after the attack at the Spring Ball. He seemed to be grieving for you. Care to elaborate?"

"I had a… guardian angel, of sorts." The Queen nodded slightly, but didn't ask any further questions on the subject.

"So what have you brought today that reunites us, ten years later?"

"What my father never gave you, but that I think this country may be ready for now, in a time of relative peace. I trust you will use it well. I present the Steam Knights." Jackson threw his hand out to indicate the huge crates that he had instructed were to be brought in and placed next to him. They weren't there. _Why me… Is it that hard to set up a dramatic reveal?_

Glancing behind him, Jackson saw the steward pushing the two massive crates on a trolley. The man was panting and red-faced, but he somehow managed, amidst the awkward silence, to transport them off the trolley and onto the floor with no additional help. At this point, Jackson pulled two small levers on the boxes, and the sides fell away, revealing two massive, gleaming suits of armor. Their capes rippled behind them in the slight breeze from the open door. They were the picture of majesty.

"So what exactly are they? As far as I can tell, huge suits of armor immovable by any but a Metal Magi." Minx snorted.

"Ah, but your Majesty, that is where things get _interesting._ "

Krism raised an eyebrow, "Please do enlighten us."

"They move by means of steam," the Queens seemed more interested now, "And they are more than just a suit of armor. They can be used by anyone with a little training, and provide strength that is orders of magnitude greater than anything achievable by natural methods. Many of them have onboard weapons systems, and the first models I have created are the "Royal Guard" variant, what you see here before you."

"You know what I'm going to say next. I said it to your father many times. Can we have a demonstration?" Jackson was already in the cockpit.

A short time later, he climbed out again, slightly greasy, but with a giant grin on his face. He had forgotten the power of steam, the strength it can give you. The Knight behind him let out _tics_ and _pops_ as it cooled. He strode over to the Queens, and bowed, before waiting eagerly for their judgement.

"That was quite impressive. You say these things can be made in multiple variants?"

"Yes, ma'am. I currently have the schematics for the Royal Guard, Artillery, Military, Peacekeeper and Cargo models drawn up."

"I suppose we could fund a project of five of each, couldn't we, Krism?"

"Sounds nom!" Krism laughed.

"Thank you very much, Your Majesties. I will begin production as soon as I can." The mechanic bowed low. _I didn't expect them to be taken with the idea so fast!_

"I'm getting a sense of deja vu here. You sound just like your father."

"I only hope I can serve you longer than he was able to."

 _Echoes of conflict. Echoes of darkness. Echoes of flame. Echoes._

The sun was setting, painting the sky with oranges, purples and pinks. The Steam Knight stood, impassive and unchanging, within its shed. The iron titan cared not what color the sky was. It's engine sat silent and sullen, waiting for the food that would stoke it to flame, and from flame to power.

It was finished, finally. The first true Steam Knight would be sent to the Queen tomorrow, to aid in the last days of the Rebellion, and crush the remaining opposition. Frederic was proud, and his son even more so. They had served a part in vanquishing the Barrs, and that was a higher honor than most.

"What now, dad?"

"I'm going to go inside. Your mother and Lizzie are waiting on us for supper. You can play after dinner if you like, just don't touch the Knight."

"Alright dad! You're the best!" Frederic reached over and patted his son on the back, before heading towards the circles of light in the rapidly dimming evening.

Lizzie came out of the house, her hair bouncing as she skipped over to Jackson, grabbing his rough, calloused hand with her smaller one, and pulling him back inside amidst protestations of his liking the temperature outside, and the night air. She just looked up at him with her brown eyes, and he gave up, jogging back inside alongside his little sister.

"Jackson! If your father comes in and tells you that you can play _after_ dinner, just come in for god's sake!"

Jackson grinned, "Sorry mom, I just wanted to get some more fresh air."

His mother shook her head, "You've been stuck in that shop with your father for too long... I hope you two know what you're doing."

"Don't worry, Meira. Jackson is perfectly safe, and we just finished the big project we were working on."

"Alright, I suppose that's fine then."

"Mooooooom! I wanna eat! I'm hungry!" Lizzie broke into the conversation by slamming her fists on the table.

With that, everyone sat down and began eating. No one spoke for about a minute, until Frederic began. He and Meira talked about how much the Queen would pay, how Lizzie was doing, what were Jackson's friends doing and other such small talk. Jackson and Lizzie asked to be excused early so they could play outside.

The night was chilly, and Lizzie began shivering soon after they exited the house. Jackson couldn't bear to see his sister suffer, so he told her to go fetch his jacket from the hook in the hall, and wear it. _It_ is _unseasonably cold._ He jogged around the yard behind the house, past the shed, and closer to the treeline. As he ran, he glimpsed what he thought was a shadow out of the corner of his eye, but then it twitched. _Must be a squirrel or something._ Then it raised a hand, and three others came out of the woods. Jackson dove to the ground, the grass rustling lightly under his weight.

 _Rebels! They're probably out to stop any allies of the Queen._ _Dad told me this might happen... And it finally has. Gotta get to the house, warn everyone. But will they see me? No, better to go around the shed and get weapons, then use the shots to warn Mom and Dad and Lizzie._ For once, Jackson was thankful for the hundreds of games of hide-and-seek he had played in this yard. He knew exactly where and when to move to keep out of sight, and within a minute had his back to the rough wood of the shed. Jackson grinned.

 _Crack!_ The pistol shot echoed through the trees, and Jackson could hear men shouting. He ran towards the well, taking cover behind the ancient stones, carrying a rifle with him. Torches lit up, and Jackson could start to see how many men there were. _That's at least two dozen..._ A figure was approaching now, and Jackson cocked the hammer on the revolver.

"Who are you?"

"It's me, Jackson! Don't shoot!"

Jackson breathed a sigh of relief, then tensed up again, "What happened to Mom and Lizzie?"

"They're sa-" A bloom of flame outlined Frederic's bulky figure, like an aura of destruction. The house was in flames. Jackson shivered, and his father pulled him close, "They're safe, alright? They're safe..."

"For the Barrs! Down with the Queen, and any who support her!" Cries sounded out from the main body of men, while others hefted blades and other weapons, and spread out across the premises.

"Listen, Jackson. Stay here, and stay quiet. Shoot anyone who comes near the shed, but don't give yourself away. We're outnumbered here." The man glanced back over his shoulder, "Aim steady, son. I'll be back in a flash."

There was a sound of splintering wood as Frederic bashed the shed door in, and Jackson could hear the familiar _hiss_ and _pop_ of a boiler and engine starting up. _Now to hold them off._ Two men were running towards the shed from the house, brandishing torches and swords. They hadn't seen Jackson. They wouldn't. He took a deep breath, and exhaled as he pulled the trigger. Twin shots pierced the air, and the men flopped. Their comrades noticed, and three more were sent.

He shoved the pistol in his pocket, and began moving, staying in a crouch as he headed for the treeline. There was a treehouse there, one which had provided a lot of secret club meetings, fairy castles and watchtowers for the make-believe armies. Now it would provide a vantage point to defend against a very real threat. As Jackson climbed, he glanced back at the shed. There was steam coming out of the chimney, and the three men were cautiously approaching it with weapons at the ready. _Three... two... one._

==O==

The shredder rounds worked well, and tore through the shed and the men with equal ease. The door and the entire front wall were reduced to splinters, and from the depths of the shed, the Steam Knight rose. The men stared up at it, and Jackson heard screams of terror, which were silenced as each one was reduced to chunks of flesh and bone.

"Come on then, you Barr-loving bastards!" The strangely tinny voice of Frederic cut through the night, inciting the rest of the rebels to begin their assault.

Screams and gunfire ruled the night. One man charged in, and was promptly crushed by the iron fist of the suit. His broken body was thrown at his comrades, and Jackson could see one of them struggling not to retch at the sight. _This suit is powerful. I've never seen my father this angry before!_ As Jackson watched, another man was thrown screaming into the flaming ruins of the house.

Only a few of the rebels had brought guns, so the battle was more of a hunt for which rebel would be stupid enough to move away from cover... not that it mattered with the piercing power of the shredder rounds. All but six were dead, unless some had managed to retreat. It was hard to tell with the mutilated bodies. The last six fired handguns, and one had a rifle, which had little to no effect on the Steam Knight. Frederic manipulated the suit like a larger version of himself, tearing apart cover and enemies alike, utilizing his strength to the fullest. Suddenly, the rebels' seemingly disorganized, scattered formation made sense. The Knight was surrounded quickly.

"Come out of the suit with your hands up! We can disable you if we must! Swear allegiance to the Barrs here and now and we might let you live!"

The tinny voice of Frederic laughed, a deep, terrifying laugh. "You really _don't_ understand the power of this, do you?"

There was a hiss, and then the yard was filled with steam. The rebels fired blindly into the clouds of vapor, but none of the bullets landed. One, two, three, four, then five bodies flew out of the cloud of steam, the life crushed from them. _Where's the last- oh._ The final rebel was on his knees in front of Frederic, pleading for his life. Frederic took a step closer, and opened the faceplate. They spoke for a moment, but Jackson was too far to hear. Suddenly, the man stood.

"You thought I would sell out my comrades? Never!" The man pulled a ball of some kind from his jacket, and tried to throw it into the suit's open faceplate.

"No! Dad!" But Frederic had it under control. He brought one massive arm up, batting the grenade behind him, while his other arm unloaded the rest of the ammunition into the rebel in front of him, reducing the man to pieces.

The grenade detonated, right next to what would be the small of Frederics back. The armor seemed to do it's job, however, and the suit was simply knocked down. Jackson cheered, jumping up and down in his treehouse perch. Then he noticed his dad wasn't moving.

"Jackson! Come help me! I can't move!" Jackson sprinted towards his fallen father, and hit the emergency release. The suit fell to pieces, leaving Frederic Luther lying on the backplate. There was a crack in the armor, right near Frederic's spine.

"Dad! Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I can't... move... my legs."

Jackson immediately started turning his father over, slowly and carefully. There was a tiny hole in the man's jacket, and as Jackson pulled out his pocketknife and cut it off, he saw that his father _had_ been hurt. A wound between two of Frederic's vertebrae. It wasn't bleeding much, and the shrapnel was still visible. It hit him then. _Dad's paralyzed._

 _So that's Echoes chapter 5! Did you like the Steam Knight combat? If you did, feel free to shoot me some feedback on tumblr or !_


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